


Champion, Director's Cut

by ArwynAtreides



Series: Champion Cycle [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Abuse, Anger, Drama, Family Drama, Psychological Torture, Redemption, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 12:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwynAtreides/pseuds/ArwynAtreides
Summary: Champion Cycle Pt. 1A broken promise forgotten. A beast and a boy. Children and monsters. Love and Fate. All collide in this dark tale about grappling with monsters, told over an evening's journey through the past and present as we wonder: Can a beast become a Champion for good?Seto Kaiba's lived a tortured exist for centuries but in this century he finally has a chance to find love and the chance to give his life meaning- but only if he faces a monster... regardless of whether or not he survives his actions, and inaction, will effect many.





	1. The Beast and His Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note  
> The following is something like a “Director’s Cut” of, the previously published, “Champion.” I wrote “Champion” many years ago, when I was still a very new writer and the work is HIGHLY unpolished. However, even after all of these years I have still kept this story in my heart as one of my favourite early works. So I decided to go back to this story and rewrite it. I want to make it the great story that I always knew it could be.
> 
> With this in mind, I hope that you enjoy this slight reimagining of “Champion.” This version of the story will be broken up into chapters and will probably end up being significantly longer, richer, and (I hope) better developed than the original
> 
> Thank you for reading.

 The softness of early night, the last remnants of the sun’s light having said their goodbyes not long since, fell upon a lush garden paradise, cultivated with such care and devotion as to make angels sigh. Gentle breezes tickled blossoms and leaves. In this place where peace reigned supreme there was one thing shockingly out of place. There in the midst of all this beauty, reclining and relaxed, sat a beast. In a place of verdant greens and playful pastels, an unnatural entity had flagrantly inserted itself.

At odds with its surroundings, bearing sharp blue eyes, cold pale skin, and the sharp features of a predator, the beast sat unperturbed. Calm and still without. However, within the beast, underneath the raw muscles, there was an all consuming fire. It kept the beast ever hungry, always demanding to slake a lethal thirst. It yearned for lifeblood. Its insistent urging, at times, made his jaws ache. Its insidious whispers reminded him to dominate and _feed_. However, this particular beast did not embrace his fire. In his every waking hour he made sure the fire was carefully contained.

He did not allow the fire to burn free throughout himself. He kept the fire, its hunger and its rage, confined in what he envisioned to be a lantern within his chest. He could not rid himself of the essence of the beast he had become but he could shutter the fire, dimming its light and power over him. But this fire would not be ignored. Kept from running wild, the fire still made its presence known. The whispering hunger as his eyes found the thumping pulse in a neck. The gentle nudge reminding him that he could simply _do away_ with the annoyance of some pestering person. The fire was ever-present in the beast’s perception of himself but for others it was invisible. In fact, no one seemed able to see that he was a twisted facsimile hidden in plain sight.

It was an unparalleled disguise for a predator but a quick glance would cry out the truth to the primitive mind. The beast was danger. Its very presence sent shivers down spines. However, the beast was in a world where the human livestock had set aside almost all of their instincts. They had not found them convenient enough to continue heeding when they had created civilization. Despite the great part those instincts had playing in their survival for so many millennia, the primitive mind was doubted at best and buried at worst. This suited the beast, though.

It was because they had dulled their senses that the beast was able to walk among them. It was because they did not know to drive him from their lands and hunt him to the ends of the earth that he was able to relax in his large home. A property purchased with the copious amounts of money they gave him. For goods and services rendered, naturally. The beast did not simply take what he wanted. He was businessman. They praised his accomplishments and foolishly assumed that he was just some savvy entrepreneur with good luck. They imagined that their initial instincts were some figment of their imagination. The average human chose to go about their day, after meeting him, in blissful ignorance of how terrifying the beast was.

However, there was still one place where humans still had some impression of how to listen to those survival instincts. Strangely it was in an environment which could not look further away from the wilds, where those instincts had once been honed. It was in the corporate wilds that humans still found some use for those instincts. Unforgiving lands full of pitfalls, packs, and predators, all wrapped up in tall glass towers, suits, and ties. 

Though they still retained some of their instincts, the beast still thrived. Their civilized minds could not listen fully to what those instincts screamed at them, the warnings of looming death. When they came in contact with the beast they didn’t flee but rather bowed to his character. He easily dominated hopeful alphas. He inspired ranks of followers. He was a natural leader. This was all their civilized minds could understand of the warnings which rang through them.

Seto Kaiba was a leader, not to be challenged or trifled with. When he walked into a room they all listened. Awe, respect, and fear came from their biological imperative to survive. He could lead them to glory, under his command, or he could easily remove them from his path as he plowed forward to victory. His army of employees and partners hung upon his every word and they built his empire to his exacting standards.

Though that captain of industry, the beast of the corporate wilds, was left every day at the front gate. At home there was no fear, no intimidation. There was no bark nor any bite to the beast. There he was a simple disciple of Love. He devoted his energy to a light in the world which was too delicate and too pure to be allowed to meet with that fire within his lantern. This light lived in a state apart from the corporate wilds. It lived sheltered from all the other beasts that prowled the world. It existed inside a small form which was now curled up on the beast’s chest. Breathing deeply and sucking a thumb, it had no inkling of the nature of the beast. It did not see even the barest hint of that fire in him. In the eyes, and heart, of the slumbering child the beast was a savior and guardian.

Malnourished, dirty, and nearly forgotten in a trash heap of an orphanage. The child had probably been originally slated to die unwanted, unloved, and unknown. However, a twist of Fate had landed the boy in the path of the beast.

 

As part of its corporate mission, KaibaCorp professed that it was determined not to simply be a company which focused on profits. The company always took pains to improve the cities where it opened offices. It was no secret that special attention was always paid to the institutions in those cities which dealt with children. Orphanages, especially, seemed to be given priority. That communal house of horrors, where the child was to be found, was no exception.

Recently shut down under the mountain of violations which had piled up, it was set to be renovated and reformed before being reopened. Like rats fleeing a sinking ship, the employees had taken whatever they thought would bring them a profit and left the children. It was left to those coming in, to clear out the children, finding them temporary lodgings before more permanent arrangements could be made. It was an unfortunate complication but with much hurried work, all of the children had been accounted for and removed. Now all that remained was for a visit from the head of the company, before the building would be gutted.

The gathered press all knew that this was just a clever public relations stunt. Another company’s carefully orchestrated display to ingratiate them with the population. The company would show that it ‘truly cared for the children of the world,’ their net worth would rise, their products would fly off the shelves. In other words, the company professed not to care about their profits and then they’d profit from their, highly publicized, good deeds. The public appearance of the notoriously reclusive founder of the company was a nice touch, though. However, the reporters knew how this would all play out. He would come, take some little tour of the premises, then make a little speech. Everyone would clap, questions would be asked, cameras would snap photos, and in the end he’d get back in his limousine, never to visit this corner of the city again. 

It was certainly a shock when Seto Kaiba, after what must have been a very _short_ tour, suddenly left. It was a strange turn of events. He didn’t make a speech, he didn’t wait for applause, he didn’t even pose for photos. Strangest of all was the bundle he was carrying in his arms when he hurried out of the building. He had moved so swiftly, and with so much urgency, that he was out of the door and into his limousine before many knew what was happening. It was all over so fast that the reporters barely had any time to ask questions. However, their keen eyes noticed that it was a bundle of dirty blanket that he was clutching to his chest. The photographers weren’t able to get photographs of a grand speech but those with their wits still about them managed to snap a few photos as the great man strode past. In one of those photos, there seemed to be a tiny foot hanging out of a fold of the filthy lump.

 

That was how the boy had come to be with the beast. Picked up out of muck and mire. Taken into a real home. Given food, medicine, and a room of his own. Offered everything he could ever wish for and reassured that his every wish would be granted. In the end, his greatest wish was the simplest thing. He wanted to be held. Starved of affection, the boy had initially feared when he was set down that he would never be picked up again. He spent nearly every waking moment in the arms of his savior. Even when he slumbered, he did so in those arms. Slowly, the darkness and sorrow that had clung to the boy had fallen away and shining from him was a gentle light. An innocence and purity that found and accepted beauty all around him.

Even in the beast, the boy saw beauty. Perhaps because he was so ignorant of what human touch felt like he did not know how disgusting the beast was. How was he to know how strange the peculiarities of his guardian truly were? He never thought to wonder about the deep emptiness he heard when his head lay against that large chest. Having never been held, the boy did not know that he should have heard the beating of a heart. Even the coldness of those arms which held him did not seem to make an impression upon him. His greatest wish having been granted the boy dared not question his luck. In those early days, when he was so sure that this could not possibly last, he clung desperately to the beast.

Strangely, the beast found that his greatest wish had also been granted. One of them, at least. One which he had not known he was carrying. Just as the child clung desperately to him, the beast found himself clinging to the boy. This closeness, though, held surprising consequences.

“Daddy-”

Seto had flinched when Mokuba had said the word. It touched a painfully tender spot in his mind. The beast had not given any thought to what the child would eventually call him. However, he knew immediately that this term was too close. He looked into the boy’s shocked eyes and he saw how innocent they were. Those eyes belonged to someone who could never fathom the power of titles. Blessedly ignorant, Mokuba did not understand how titles bound people together, oftentimes against their wishes.

This was something that the beast knew it must never do. He must never hold so tightly to the boy that he crippled him. He must allow the boy the freedom to grow and eventually leave him. He must accept that in time he would be alone again. In answer to this, the ache of a loneliness he had known all of his preternaturally long life whispered to him. It urged him to grab this boy and never let him go. Called for him to bind them together. Pushed for him to stitch the boy to himself, with the immaterial threads of titles and obligations. The ache promised that he would never know a lonely moment for as long as he lived. He could ensure that they would be together forever. It would be so simple to fill that hole within himself with this boy.

However, Seto had once been a boy bound and stitched to a creature with a void to fill. There was nothing which could ever make him commit that selfish sin. There was no amount of loneliness which could excuse it. 

He spoke coolly, so as not to betray the revulsion he felt at his own passing thoughts, “Mokuba, I’m not your father. You can call me Seto.”

The little boy’s eyes darted away and tried to find a proper place to look as his cheeks grew warm. He wrinkled his nose, and sniffled, “I -uh I know you aren’t my Daddy- I just,” he tried to swallow the lump which had grown in his throat. “I just want to be…” The boy had mumbled something and Seto allowed himself to set a hand on the boy’s trembling back. “I just want to be family…” His shoulders shook and he choked on sobs as he cried into his hands.

The beast felt a new ache, and cursed himself. Even as he had tried to save the boy from pain he had thoughtlessly, though accidentally, dealt him a cruel blow.

“Big brother… Or just Brother…” Seto had said softly, tasting the words and testing them. The boy had sniffled and blinked his wet eyes. “You can call me Big Brother…if you like…”

And so it was from that moment on, Seto was Mokuba’s Big Brother. It was a development which pleased the boy and made the beast feel just a little less like a beast. Each time he heard “Big Brother,” the beast felt something warm in his chest, as if someone were breathing life back into him.

 

To understand the beast’s hollowness and aches, it is integral that one understand the nature of the beast. Though it moved and spoke it was without true life. He was of a class of creatures which we have all heard of. From the darkness of history. Found in the tales of those living on the edges of the harsh wilderness. Romanticized in those stories spun about the reclusive aristocracy. Their kind has had many names and titles in many languages, with the most recent in popular circulation being ‘vampire.’

Built up in tales of adventure and romance, vampires are most often portrayed as the most perfect creatures. Adept at hunting in plain sight. Blessed with unnatural abilities. Gifted with eternal life. What could they not take by force or coercion? The tangible and material is easily acquired.

Unfortunately, not everything wanted can be graced by fingertips.

Dominated by a raging hunger. Tortured by guilt. Or even simply gripped by a never-ending boredom. For every monster, there was some anguish they could not rid themselves of. Try as they might with possessions and activities. The acquisition or creation of art. Traveling the world. The throes of wanton passion. The study of the divine. Still the ache persists for most.

For the beast in the garden, the illusive intangible treasure was simple. Meaning. He wanted to have a purpose and direction to his existence. What was he to do with eternity? What would he accomplish? What would fill the hole in his chest? There had once been _something_ which was to be his purpose but the opportunity had passed and eventually the memory of it faded, and was lost altogether.

 

Meaning was lost and new meaning had to be found. Poetically fitting, it was when the beast had not been looking that meaning had found him. Meaning had come with the boy. Giving this boy a life free from worry, pain, and fear had given Seto’s life purpose.

Curiously, purpose had not been the _only_ thing which had accompanied the boy’s arrival. Something else had blossomed in the presence this little person. It was just as intangible as purpose and could only be classified as Love. As soon as it arrived, Love quickly began to infuse itself into every aspect of the beast’s life at home. It left its traces in everything the boy touched. Including the beast.

During every moment with Mokuba, Seto felt Love add some new piece to him. A memory which made him smile or made him sigh. They were little remembrances which he felt kindle a warmth within himself. A pure warmth. One which was vital, wholly unlike the fire of hunger. It did not drag him down into the darkness of his bestial desires but rather lifted him up. Up and away from the things he feared within himself. Away from the wretched memories which once threatened to swallow him up. This warmth calmed the hungry flames, soothed the savage beast, and brought a peace that Seto had never known before.

Seto looked absently up at the heavens. Through the leaves and branches, at the stars far above. Lifting a hand, he stroked the boy’s hair. He sighed and smiled, this was a moment that he would not mind stretching on for eternity.

 

Alas, these peaceful moments are like shining lures in the darkness to the mischievous and malicious. They call out to those daemons who plague us. It is these moments that we all curse ourselves for not savoring more, once we are embroiled in some struggle which followed. However, these moments can also be seen as a gift from Fate and Destiny. Some small consolation to apologize for the havoc which will soon be wrought in the lives of those sad creatures for whom the time has come to submit to Strife.


	2. Darkness Falls Upon a Peaceful Path

There is no moment basking in the glow of Love which cannot be marred or utterly destroyed by an intrusion. The beast’s moments with his brother were no exception. The two brothers may have looked as though they were alone in the world but there was a visitor coming. Another beast. One which, no matter their mode of transport, seemed to always arrive on a cold wind.

It was this cold wind, in reality only a subtle scent carried on a gentle breeze, which stabbed at Seto’s moment of peace like a lance to the chest. The chair creaked and groaned in protest as he stood up slowly. His senses were on high alert but he tried not to betray his unease or wake the child with any swift movements. His eyes darted around the garden and he calculated the time it would take to walk to the back door. Every fiber of his being was shrieking at him to make a mad dash for the door. Unfortunately, like a cat stalking its prey the visiting beast would be enticed to give chase and pounce on Seto. There would be little hope to get Mokuba to safety after that.

“There’s no need to leave on _my_ account.” A soft purr rolled out through the calm garden.

Seto’s jaw locked and he continued to make his way towards the door. It was only a few yards away. If he could _just_ manage to get to the door he could leave the boy inside or signal someone to come and take Mokuba to his room. Had his heart still functioned, a quickened pulse would have betrayed his trepidation, but his feet kept an even pace, walking towards the door. His eyes swept over his surroundings, looking for some warning of an incoming attack. This was all just a game for the stalking beast and the only way Seto could win was to stay calm.

A small white face came from behind a potted topiary. A pulse would have all betrayed Seto’s shock but there was nothing but silence in him as he locked his eyes on the creature. A face so pale and perfect as to be the porcelain face of a doll looked up at Seto. A sweet smile was spread out upon its lips. Its ageless face could fool most anyone into believing that the owner was almost as young as the boy in Seto’s arms, and almost as innocent. But one look into his purple eyes would shake the viewer’s belief. There was something there which could _never_ exist in the eyes of a child. Something cunning. Something dark. Something _hungry_.

The visitor’s delicate pale hand slithered up the manicured shape of three stacked hearts and the thin fingers began plucking leaves. This beast’s purple eyes lazily flowed from the heart it was molesting, to the leaves which fell from his fingers, to the ground. Then they floated up to meet the cold blue eyes staring down at them. The little mouth. The dainty nose. The large eyes. Even the colorful hairstyle. Every outward aspect of Yami spoke to a nature which was far more gentle and sweet than Seto’s. However, behind that fair facade was an unbridled beast which consumed everything it touched. There were no shutters to dim or hide that fire. Only ornate screens to fool the viewer.

“This is the point when it is customary to say ‘Good evening.’” Yami, seemingly with an absentmind, went back to plucking leaves. “Have your manners deteriorated so much-”

“What do you want, Yami?”

Slender fingers plucked a branch with the speed and grace of a viper striking. The unsettling snap broke the calm. “I want some sign of courtesy.” His words held a hard edge, and he rolled the branch between his thumb and forefinger. The wood gave way and disintegrated, under a pressure that the casual observer wouldn’t be able to imagine being exerted by such delicate looking digits. It was a pressure, however, which Seto remembered with vivid clarity. His eyes followed the pieces of wood as they fell. “Why don’t you put that thing down and hold _me_ tenderly, instead?”

Seto’s eyes snapped back up. His body tensed. His hands flexed as he fought the urge to grip Mokuba tighter. He wanted to protect him more, but his fingers had the same capacity for destruction as those which had done away with the branch. Silence once more settled in over the garden, brief snaps disturbed it as Yami pulled more leaves free. There was nothing coming forth from Yami and Seto guessed that this was just another visit to see if he could be rattled. As long as Yami saw some potential to harry him, he would stay there, destroying the garden leaf by leaf. Seto decided to end the game early. He was no longer a scared child and Mokuba needed to be in bed. He took a conscious step around the potted plant. He mourned the fact that soon it would be a skeletal remembrance of itself, a reminder of Yami’s toxic touch.

This _could_ be a night when Yami was simply bored and feeling impish. In which case, there was every chance that he would make a mess before becoming so bored that he chose to go home to enjoy whatever sick pleasures he had planned for the evening. If that was the case, going inside would wrap this up quickly.

Yami was a very different class of beast than Seto. Where Seto was a focused creature who made and achieved goals. Yami was a fickle monster who reveled in the fulfillment of his own desires. He was ruled by an immature nature which bored easily and lashed out in fits of violence often. This made the appearance of his moods difficult to predict but there tended to be some pattern to his actions once he was in one. The trick was dealing with him in the moments immediately following his mood shift. One word or action could unleash a whirlwind of violence and rage. A different word or action could send him into a fit of bubbling giggles. One had to tread carefully when this monster was about.

Seto’s deliberate steps had brought him temptingly close to the door. He wanted to just rush inside but it would be folly to abandon his affectation of calm while the monster was still looking. He focused on reaching his hand towards the doorknob slowly. He must not look as though he was hurrying away. He had almost gotten Mokuba inside. There would be some parting shot coming from Yami soon, if this visit followed the usual pattern. His shoulders tensed as he braced for the possibility of a _physical_ blow. Though it was more likely that Yami would chooseto make some comment about their deteriorated relationship. There was also the chance that he might extend an invitation to visit. Or the monster could just swear at him. Seto prayed for the last option. This torment would be over with quickly and he could get his brother safely inside.

“So, when are you planning to finally have sex with him?” The purr of words rolled out and crashed on Seto’s back. Stunned for a moment, Seto’s hand hung in the air.

“You know, it’s smart to get the best out of them at _that_ age. Before they grow up and break your heart.” The words held the notes of a pout and they wafted up from just below Seto’s left shoulder. Yami stood on tip toes and a doll-like hand was reaching up for Mokuba’s hair.

Seto’s hand flew up and shielded the boy from the disgusting touch. Reflexively, he took a step back from the smaller man. He would never let that monster lay a finger on Mokuba. That touch had so much filth and evil on it that it could infect him. Seto had an intimate knowledge of the infection that touch held. He could never be clean of it. He would never allow that monster to make corrosive contact with Mokuba.

Yami’s expression was momentarily shocked. He pouted, “Oh, I see how it is! You want to be the only one who touches him. You don’t like sharing, like I do…”

A functioning stomach would have turned.

“But that’s ok. I don’t really want _him._ Put him in his box or whatever and we can enjoy the rest of this evening.” Yami ran his fingers over his little lips in anticipation. “I still remember the way-”

“Please go away.” Still holding the boy with a protective hand behind his head, Seto didn’t dare to make for the door yet.

“Oh, do you want me to leave so you can have fun with him?” Yami’s eyes widened and his eyebrows rose as he made a dramatic gasp, “Oh goodness! Was _tonight_ the special-”

“GET OUT!” Seto roared. Hating himself, he exercised a small amount of his power over his brother, as the boy began to shift in his arms. His outburst had startled the boy but he didn’t want the child to wake up. He couldn’t risk him seeing the monster.

Yami was shocked again, this time he frowned, “You shouldn’t speak to me like that.” A hard edge had entered his voice once more and he gritted his teeth. “It’s fine if you want to have your alone time with your plaything but I MADE YOU!” He had begun to shake, “There is no reason that you can’t just have him another night! After all! I’m busy! And I’m much more special than that- that TOY!” He spat the finally word and glared at the sleeping form.

Seto stood still, holding onto the sleeping boy, protectively. He took several steps backward and thought about whether he could run to a different entrance. 

“RIGHT!?” Yami’s jaw was tense. His pupils constricted as he looked at Seto. Looked him up and down. Looked for some sign that the younger was going to toss away that filthy flesh bag and come back to him. “RIGHT!?” He shrieked. A flawless little fist went through a pane of glass in the door. “I MADE YOU! I MADE YOU!!” The small nightmare was screaming and heat was beginning to roll off of him. The shattered glass brought Seto back to the threat in front of him, he had to diffuse this situation before Yami lashed out at him and Mokuba was caught in the middle. Yami had pulled his hand from the window frame and begun to stalk closer to his disobedient child. “I _made_ you and I will _unmake you!”_

He made to lunge but Seto stood firm, this was no longer the time to run. “That time has long since past.”

Yami froze.

“You no longer have power over me, Yami.” His words were firm and quiet. They were resolute. Yami stood, stunned. Seto brushed past him and walked inside. He left his otherworldly ‘father’ outside with his words ringing in his ears. Yami wouldn’t stop his pursuit just because of a few words but at least Seto had bought enough time to get Mokuba inside. He crossed the threshold and breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind himself. The protective wards over the house hadn’t protected the window but they would keep Yami out. He’d worry about the monster another time. For now they were both safe, inside. For _now_ …

‘For _now,_ ’ the temporary reprieve he clung to once more. He had been freed by his master decades ago and he had thought that _then_ that he would be free. But Yami had found ways to interject himself into Seto’s life over and over again. Ways to prove that he could only ever obtain _temporary_ relief. Seto had moved farther and farther away. No matter how much distance he put between himself and his creator, it was not enough. Yami always found ways to remind him that there was no way for him to be completely removed from his former master’s view.

So temporary safety was what Seto had come to embrace. And embrace it he did. He walked through the kitchen and into the hall, never turning his head to see if Yami had gone.

He walked through the quiet halls, making his way to the boy’s bedroom. He laid Mokuba down in bed and pulled the covers up around his little shoulders. He settled himself in the chair next to the bed and looked down at the boy. He accepted that there was only the temporary for himself. But what about Mokuba? Could there be a way to secure permanent security for his brother? Was there a way that he could shield him from _all_ of the ills of the world? He knew that _this_ was impossible but still he found himself praying. Praying to the only good thing he still dared to put faith in. Love.

‘Love, I ask that you watch over Mokuba. Protect him from this world. Protect him from monsters and beasts. Protect him from me. Keep him happy. Keep him safe.’ Seto sighed and looked down at his shaking hands, ‘If you can’t do that then please give me the power to shield him from the monsters of the world.’ His hands clasped, he tried to will them to stop shaking. “I’d give my very existence, every ounce of my being, to protect him…”

 

‘Be mindful of what you wish.’ Sage advice that all should heed. For prayers have a strange habit of coming true in their own way and in their own time. Unfortunately for Seto, his mind was so focused on his desire to keep his brother safe, that he did not remember this wisdom.

Woe betide unto those who find themselves making grandiose wishes when they are already firmly in the sights of Fate and Destiny.

The beast’s night was only _just_ beginning.


	3. A Plea Left Unheard

 Seto sat in the dark. He drifted just out of the reach of the sweet embrace of sleep. It beckoned and even though he knew that Yami couldn’t come in, he still felt too unsettled to give in and relax. So he sat, listening to the house settle. He listened to the soft breathing from the bed. The boy had rolled over a few times but he was still sleeping soundly. Still blissfully unaware of how close he had come to a nightmare that night.

The vision of that pale talon, reaching up to spread sickness and sorrow, was burned into Seto’s mind. The moment had been quick, a few seconds, but as it played in his mind it was painfully slow. The hand appeared. Slowly floating. Reaching out. Hungry for the opportunity to ruin something that was close to Seto. He bit his lip and tried to swallow the anger that was rising. He should have ripped Yami’s little hand off! He should have torn that cursed appendage clean off!

The anger seethed and roiled in his breast, but he would have never managed that. He would have grabbed for it and caught nothing but air. Yami would have danced away. Then he would have lunged in. Holding Mokuba in front of himself, Seto would have had to turn his back to Yami. The monster would have sunk his claws into his back and Seto would have been undone. No, it had been much wiser to just move away, rather than to have confronted Yami. However, he scolded himself for his outburst. He could have handled that without yelling. If he had kept a better hold of his anger, then he wouldn’t have needed to try to keep Mokuba asleep. He cursed himself for using his powers on the boy. It was a breach of trust. An abuse of power. It was one step closer to the beast becoming just like the monster.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his private torture. Seto ignored it. It was probably some maid, who had woken up and gone into the kitchen, coming to inquire about the broken glass. He could deal with that in the morning. The visitor wasn’t dissuaded by the silence and the door slid open. The visitor spoke, but the voice didn’t belong to anyone in Seto’s employ. “He’s back in town.” A silence stretched out uncomfortably and the visitor sighed. “You know, you might win yourself some peace if you just showed him a bit of the affection you showed that boy.”

Seto grunted.

“Maybe if you just went over for a cup of tea-”

“I will _never_ go back to that monster!” Seto growled. His still clasped hands flexed in agitation.

“I’m not saying that you should go back- just a little visit-”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to warn you about Yami-”

Seto stood up abruptly, the force of it caused the chair to slide back several inches. He walked to the door quickly and shoved the other man out of the way. He hissed, “I will _not_ have that name said in Mokuba’s presence.” He closed the door behind himself, grimacing. Once more he attempted to put a barrier between Yami and the innocent.

“Ah. I apologise." 

Seto sighed and lead the way to the living room. His silver haired visitor followed quietly behind him. Seto gestured towards a seat and the two old acquaintances sat down across from each other. A coffee table sat between them, separating them. On that table sat the weight of the decades of silence that had developed between the two old friends. The separation had been broken with short and sporadic meetings when one or the other felt some urge to see their oldest friend. However, it was the events which occurred in those gaps which pushed them further apart.

“Have you really come to urge me to make amends with my sire?” The word, _sire_ , tasted bitter and foul in Seto’s mouth. The creature who had given him the curse, the infection for which there was no cure. The vampire who had transformed him. The one who had created the beast and the fire within him.

The visitor chuckled, “Never. I only ask that you see your way to visit him. I think a civil interaction might go a long way to giving you some more peace.” Seto’s jaw tightened. His guest hurriedly added, “I’m not suggesting that you do anything but _pretend_ to have some affection for him. He’s your sire after all. And he’s always been fond of you. So-”

“I have told you, countless times: I want nothing to do with him. I don’t even want to have anything to do with his world but this-” Seto shook his head in disgust and looked down at himself. “this curse means that I must remain a part of it.”

“Just a moment of peace between you two-”

“MAX! You know as well as _I_! There is _no_ peace that can be had! Yami will never just let me go to tea once and be satisfied with that! He takes and _takes_! He will always want more! It will never be _enough_!” Seto felt himself shaking again. “You, of all people should know that there is no negotiating with someone like him! Even _you_ didn’t just go to tea! You had to-”

“YES!” Maximillion snapped and then cleared his throat. “Yes. I know what I had to do.” His gaze fell to the floor. “I will have to live with that until the end of time.” His hand seemed to reflexively rise towards the left side of his head, but it quickly sank back into his lap. Seto had long wondered what was be hidden behind the silver locks which were now always styled to hide half of Max’s face. Something had transpired in one of those gaps between them and Seto never felt that he had the right to question him.

 

The two sat in silence for a long time. Maximillion looked across at his old friend. Seto finally seemed to have calmed down, possibly enough to listen to reason. There was something important that needed to be done. If he could only get Seto to go see his sire. “Just a short visit would show a certain measure of respect. Then-”

“WHAT!?” Seto roared, slamming his fist through the coffee table. He jumped to his feet and glared down at Maximillion. “YOU HAVE _NO_ RIGHT TO SAY THAT TO ME! IS THIS THE SAME _MEASURE_ _OF RESPECT YOU GAVE YOUR SIRE_? You murdered that bastard and now you want to tell me to-”

The rant was ended with the sharp sound of a palm connecting with Seto’s cheek. His head snapped to the side with the force of the blow and he froze. Seto stood in stunned silence. Turning his head back, Seto looked at Maximillion. He stood in front of him, shaking with a rage Seto had never seen.

“ _You do NOT have the RIGHT to say that to me!”_ His voice began as a whisper but rose as his hands became fists. Clenching and unclenching in agitated paroxysms “ _You are just a spoiled brat! You have NO IDEA what I went through! ESPECIALLY ONCE YOU LEFT!”_

Seto started to open his mouth to apologize but Maximillion continued. “NO! You do not get to apologize! You LEFT! Never turned to look over your shoulder. Never came to fulfill your promises! You LEFT ME!” A crazed laughter began to force its way from his throat and Maximillion reached up. Shaking fingers grabbed a fistful of his silvery hair.

He pulled the silver curtain back from his face and revealed his left eye for the first time in a century. Seto swayed. He felt a vice grip his chest. There, marring the delicate features. There, hideously mismatched with his right eye. There, staring at him, unblinking. Was some hideous metal facsimile of an eye. Protruding from the socket and clashing in every conceivable way with the tailored and cultivated aesthetic of its owner. Even its gold color seemed to be in defiance of the wearer’s naturally silver hair.

Seto reached up to touch his friend’s cheek. Still stunned. Still reeling he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Something in him needed to touch Max’s flesh. Wanted to touch the eye. Confirm that it was real- or better yet, confirm that it was not. This was some sort of nightmare and if he could touch it then he would realize the fiction for what it was and awaken.

Slapped away, his hand fell back down.

“NO! Just look! _LOOK AT IT!”_ Maximillion snarled. “Do you know _how_ I came by this cursed object?” His right eye bore into Seto, pining him to the spot. “ _My master_.”

An explosion of sickening laughter rolled forth and Seto felt himself sway momentarily. “He wanted to use the magical properties of this _thing_ but with the gifts, comes a price.” Seto looked at the shaking hand still holding open the silver curtain which had shielded Seto for so many decades. The fingers pulled at the hair they held in a iron grip, threatening to tear the strands out at the roots. “So he _tore out_ my eye. I felt _every_ scrape. I heard every one of my own screams. That is-” Another fit of shrieking laughter overtook Maximillion. “That is until I fell unconscious from the pain.”

Seto’s gaping mouth opened and closed dumbly as he tried to form and release words.

“My master was a clever one, too. Far more clever than yours. At least when Yami is cruel he doesn’t think. But not my master. No. He’s too clever by half! _Do you know what he did? To make sure that I could never be rid of this cursed thing?”_ Stepping closer to Seto, Maximillion hissed, “ _He made sure that my eye could never grow back._ ” His right eye quivered as a forming tear struggled to break free. _“I will have to live for all eternity, incomplete. And that ache in my head will forever remind me of the cruelty that I suffered at his hands. But PLEASE tell me how difficult it is for you to receive a visit from your sire once in a while._ ”

The silver curtain of hair fell back in place and Seto blinked.

“I’ll see myself out.” Maximillion's words hung in the air and Seto looked around the empty room.

 

The beast felt the fight drained out of him. He felt the righteous indignation flow out of his body. This void was quickly filled with a guilt and heart ache which quickly drove him back to his brother’s bedside. Back to the safe shores of Love.


	4. Nightmarish Remembrances

Two little boys sit in a linen closet, all but forgotten. It is their sacred space, at least temporarily. They hold hands and speak in hushed tones. They dream together of a time and place that is without full definition but is full of promise and potential.

“Tell me again! Where are we going to go? What are we going to do?” The younger squeaks and fidgets excitedly. This is all part of their sacred custom and more than the importance of what is said, is the importance of what is not said. ‘After we get away from these monsters’ is not said. ‘Where will we go and what will we do after we are free of this hell?’

The older boy smiles in the dark shelter, lit only by the stray glimmers of light which find their way in, through the cracks around the door from gaslights in the hallway. “Anywhere! Anything!” He holds up his friend’s hands and they try to keep their giggles quiet.

“What is the best part?” The young boy fidgets more, excited for the best part of the ritual.

“And do you know what the best bit will be?” 

“No! No!”

“We won’t have to ask anyone for anything!”

The two try to keep their mounting joy quiet. Even in this fantasy world they cannot forget what lays beyond the closet door. They are all too aware of the dangers that are only temporarily at bay. A hint of their joy might bring misfortune down upon them more swiftly and they desperately want every moment of this reprieve to last.

The younger boy takes a deep breath and lays his silver head on his friend’s chest. His small frame shrinks as he lets out a long sigh. “I cannot wait to be free.” 

The older, only a child himself, pulls a hand free and rubs his companion’s back. “When we are free we will go anywhere. We will do anything. Best of all, we won’t have to ask for permission.” 

The two little boys sit at the bottom of a linen closet in a mansion and recite their prayer. “We’ll be free.” Over and over again. They may not have the words for it at this time but what they feel in these moments is Love. Their love makes these moments sacred and safe. No matter how tiny the space or brief the moment it is a safety that they cherish. 

Unfortunately, as we’ve mentioned before, there is no moment spent in the glow of Love that is truly safe.

  

“SETO!” a bellow makes the two children jump. Through the cracks around the door, the cruel world is coming to break down their fortress of fantasy once more.

The smaller boy clutches at his friend, his fingers try to sink into the fabric, maybe into the flesh beneath. Anything not to be dislodged from this safety. The two knew that this would only ever be a temporary retreat but they both dearly want it to last forever. Even if it means a lifetime in this linen closet, they both feel prepared to accept that. Anything is better than returning to the waiting clutches of the monsters outside.

“SETO! WE ARE LEAVING!” A dangerous note of impatience makes the tiny hairs of the back of both of the boys’ necks stand up.

“Ssh. It is alright, Max. I will be back.” The tiny fingers loosen their grip, defeat makes them surrender to the inevitable. “It will be alright.”

Seto slips out of the closet and closes the door behind him. The door opens a sliver when he turns. Through the crack a quivering eye watches him as he walks down the hallway to the stairs. Seto hears a tiny sniffle as he reaches the stairs but now the safety is fully behind him. He cannot turn around. He has to face forward. He has to be strong. 

Before the boy has finished coming down the stairs a porcelain talon grabs his wrist and drags him down the last few stairs. The boy bites his bottom lip to stifle a gasp and is dragged along outside. On the steps outside, he watches his master tap a foot in annoyance as he waits for the carriage to be brought to the entrance.

“You should not make me wait. You must come the _first_ time that I call you.”

The carriage arrives and the driver jumps down. His master is already dragging the boy to the vehicle. The door is opened. The boy is thrown, like a doll made of rags, past the stairs and into the seat inside. As his arm is released the perfect claws rake across the flesh, leaving parallel lines of blood as the skin opens. His shoulder slams into the wall and he bites his lip harder.

The carriage barely moves as his master hops inside gracefully. He arranges his things and smoothes out his clothes. Bewitching purple eyes slide over to the boy and notice that the child is trying to make himself look smaller. He has all but bunched himself up into the corner. The master’s eyes become slits and he puts his mouth close to one little ear. “Don’t you like being near me?” The boy flinches. The purple eyes leer at him. The inside of the vehicle is nearly dark but the boy can _feel_ the monster’s eyes fixed upon him. “You always seem to move away. So, why don’t you like being near me?”

The boy tries to pull more of himself away.

A delicate hand strikes in the dark. The dainty looking digits latch on to a small thigh. “I asked you a question.” The boy doesn’t make a sound. “Tell me, boy. Why do you always move away from me?” The boy’s lips do not part. An answer is not forthcoming and sharp fingers begin constricting. The boy _still_ doesn’t open his mouth. His master peers at him through the dark, anger begins to rise. “ANSWER ME!”

The boy sits silently, but the monster can feel him squirming under the increasing pressure around his leg.

“ _You are MINE. Unless I tell you to move, you stay EXACTLY where I put you!_ ”

The boy doesn’t cry out. The monster begins to seethe. It grinds it’s perfect little teeth. But the boy just stares at the darkness before him. 

The boy tries to concentrate on that empty blackness. He can not allow himself to cry out. He can only focus on that emptiness. The darkness.

A cold hand brushes across his cheek and the boy flinches. The fingers wrap around his chin. His head is wrenched sideways. The carriage has stopped and there is a hazy light from a lamp in the street. This scant bit of light is enough to illuminate the big purple eyes of the monster beside him. Light glints off of the large, hungry eyes, mere inches from the boy’s face. “ _You still haven’t answered me,_ _boy_.”

A soft crack fills the relative silence of the carriage, muffled by muscle and flesh. The boy winced. His eyes screw up and begin to water. Yami tilts his head to the side, quizzically. His delicate brow furrowed. The monster hungrily awaits the full tears that will surely begin to fall freely. However, strangely, they do not come.

The darkness consumes the inside of the carriage again and the boy scolds himself for his weakness. He fights to keep himself composed as Yami’s iron grip massages his leg. The hairline fraction of his femur screams in agony with every movement. He tries to keep his eyes steady. He stares into the darkness again, but he knows that now the darkness is staring back at him. The monster is waiting for it’s salty reward.

“Hmm. You don’t cry anymore. Why?” Offhanded curiosity now accompanies the slow kneading of the claws still affixed to the little leg.

The boy knows better than to look away. He tries to keep from wincing. He focuses on the darkness of the pupils before him. Anything but the pain or the tears that threaten to blossom.

“Why don’t you cry anymore? Hmm? Tell me! Why don’t you?” The boy stays silent and the master’s patience is nearly gone. “TELL ME! YOU DON’T CRY ANYMORE! WHY!? NOT EVEN WHEN YOU’RE ALONE IN THE DARK! BUT WHY!? WHY!? WHY!?” Yami shakes the boy’s face as he shouts, determined to shake free some answer. 

The stubborn boy still refuses to answer and the fingers still holding his jaw began to apply pressure. “ _If you won’t open your mouth for me, I’ll open it myself! I’ll crack it open like an obstinate oyster! TELL ME!!_ ” 

Fear floods the little boy. He knows that his jaw will soon be snapped off if he doesn’t give the monster an answer. He can’t tell the monster the truth. His master would snap his jaw off to teach him a lesson if he knew the truth. He tries to speak but with his jaw in a vice it only comes out as a mumble.

“What? What was that? SPEAK UP!” The monster shakes his face again, trying to loose the answer. When the boy mumbles again, his master laughs, realizing his folly. He releases the small face quickly, “What was that? I could not quite make it out.”

“I can’t, Master.”

Yami snarls and grabs a fist full of the boy’s hair. “LIAR!”

“I do not cry because I cannot, Master!” The boy yelps in pain. He curses himself once more for his display of pain.

Yami pulls Seto’s face closer, staring into his eyes. “ _Can not or will not?”_

“Can not.” The boy squeaks. Sensations run up and down his body, pain radiating from everywhere the monster has touched.

Throwing the boy’s head away with disgust, it bounces off of the wall of the carriage. Tiny drops of blood begin to form at the scratches on his cheek. Yami sniffs and investigates his nails. “You know you _used_ to cry, even graced us with a scream sometimes. Once or twice, I saw you bawling. You were so wonderfully soft then, but,” He purses his lips, “ultimately useless.”

The carriage rolls to a stop and the door is opened. The monster releases the boy’s thigh. The master of the house extends a hand through the open door, for the footman to take. As he gracefully exits the vehicle, he looks over his shoulder at the boy. “I expect you to perform your duties tonight.” The boy does not flinch or gulp, he has even managed to swallow the sickness that these words cause him. “ _All_ of your duties. Present yourself promptly at ten o’clock. Don’t bother putting much on but have them clean up those unsightly marks.”

+…+

This was not a remembrance of a night which had specific significance. This was not a night which was worse than any other. This was a night which was the epitome of every night when the boy was not yet a beast. He was a child living in the ironclad grip of that monster he had called Master. The boy had fought every moment to be stronger, struggled to have some power that the monster could not strip from him. Unfortunately, it was by chipping away at his own humanity that the boy felt that he could achieve any power.

That was, until finally, his humanity was completely taken from him. As the beast he had the strength he had been fighting for, for all of those years. It wasn’t until he was transformed that he realized just how much he had not known about the monster. He would never be on balanced footing with his sire. He would always be weaker. He was younger. He could never be truly ruthless. He was a powerful beast but the beast could never best the monster. 

This revelation was not the worst. As the hunger rose. As Seto succumbed to it. As he fed. As he bucked, to no avail, the needs of his new existence. All throughout, he felt the wretched weight of an awful and eternal truth. He could never be human again. 

But little by little, in his daily devotions to Love, in the moments he spent with his brother, the beast felt as though he could possibly regain pieces of his humanity. Even… if only as a temporary sensation.

 

These memories, held Seto’s mind firmly in the suffocating dark. They reminded Seto that the filth that still clung to him. Reminded him of just how close Yami was. The monster was always just a few inches away. His claws would always be wrapped around Seto’s flesh and they were always squeezing until, someday, Seto broke under their pressure.

The beast fell into the clutches of the dark memories. Brought in the wake a silver bird. A messenger who had already flown away. Unfortunately, the wrong message had been delivered to the beast, or so the bird thought. Fate has many ways, and Destiny even more, of pushing people onto their proper paths. 


	5. A ‘Father’ to his ‘Son’

A wave of adrenaline crashed down on Seto. He sat bolt upright in his chair. His eyes darted around the room, but no monsters jumped out at him. He looked back down at Mokuba, still sound asleep. Still unaware of the tempest blowing just outside of his perception.

A whirlwind of torment was whipping through Seto’s mind. There was a monster waiting to pounce. Shadows of memories stalked the edges of his consciousness. The bitter taste of fear had filled his mouth. Fear not for his own sake but for his brother’s. Still, he reminded himself, he had managed to keep it all away from his brother. This was the bit of debris that he clung to in the storm, praying that it would float him to safety. If all that he accomplished in his life was tohave given his brother a good life. If all he did was allow Mokuba to grow up without worry or fear of the monster, then his life would have meaning. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from the boy’s face. If he could bring about this _one_ miracle, he would have achieved some small measure of humanity.

“I never thought that I’d see you care so much for someone who was not Maximillion.” A soft voice came from the doorway. Despite his stormy mind, worries, and woes, Seto smiled.

He stood up and walked to the door to greet his visitor. This dark night could use some bit of light. “Hello. I’m glad that you managed to come for a visit.”

“Oh, Darkling!” The smaller man threw his arms around Seto’s torso. Despite himself, Seto took a deep breath, he breathed in a scent which brought back some of the few good memories he still held from his childhood. “I understand why you’ll never come back, but saying ‘hello’ to us, won’t give him the upper hand.”

Seto wrapped his arms around his guest and felt the faint presence of Love.

+…+

Careful hands work tenderly to clean scratches on a small cheek, scratched and bruised. They expertly apply makeup to cover the blue and purple prints blossoming of the little face. The cheek pulls away. “Stay still and you will be all fixed up.” Tears fight to break free of blue eyes. The blue eyes struggle to stay frozen and resolute. “It’s ok, Darkling. You can cry. There’s no one else here and I’ll make sure that no one else finds out about this.” Pale fingers brush against a small cheek, though not as delicate their touch is more welcome than those of the Master. The boy doesn’t pull away from the touch and arms open wide for him, offering up a hug.

The invitation is a regular occurrence. Arms held open for the boy to fall into like he did so long ago. But now the boy can no longer allow himself that comfort. He needs to be strong. The splints bound to his leg remind him why he needs to be strong but the little boy gives a begrudging sniffle. He stays seated on the bench and his cold blue eyes stare out into nothing. The man lets his arms drop and begins cleaning the wounds on the boy’s arm.

The man only smiles as the boy scowls. That scowl is not for him. “I will put a bandage on your arm and then you will be all set, Darkling.”

The little boy wonders who ‘Darkling’ is.

“You are my little Darkling, because you always have such a dark cloud on your brow. You are just a little one but you are so ready to be so dark. You try so hard to be without feeling… You’re not quite ready for it, though.” He speaks softly as his deft fingers fly about their work, wrapping the long white strip of bandage around the small forearm. 

Still determined to be strong, the boy doesn’t agree with the adult’s words. He _is_ ready to be strong. Annoyed, he looks down at his arm as it is being tended to. His eyes follow every movement. Watching carefully as the fingers work. These are the hands which have shown him kindness. They belong to the only grown up in the world who has shown him any kindness. 

 

The boy is all too aware that it is a cold and cruel world for orphans. The only person he has ever had is Max. The two of them had been all but forgotten for most of their little lives. Each abandoned, by some adult, to the harsh realities of the world. However, the two had found some solace in each other’s company. Max had found someone to look after and protect him and Seto had found someone to care for. The two had clung to each other and always assumed that their paths would be inextricably linked.

Then they found that Fortune had seen fit to turn its attention towards them. They were going to be adopted by wealthy gentlemen. What’s more, the two gentlemen knew each other! They would not be permanently separated! Their lives were to become fairytales. Unfortunately, their fairytale was more akin to Bluebeard than Cinderella. 

They had never considered that the pendulum of Fortune swings in more than one direction. It wasn’t long after they had been taken away from the dreary orphanage, that they learned that there were fates worse than being neglected. They were torn from each other and thrown into hellish existences that made them pray to be neglected. Their lives now existed like bugs under glass jars, exposed, poked, prodded, and, like a collector’s prize butterflies, mounted.

However, at times we find that Fortune has smiled upon us in some small way to ease our suffering as it waits to swing in some different direction. Seto had found that there was one in his master’s household who did not treat him like an object. This adult spoke to him, as you would a person, instead of as some pet. He looks at Seto, and the boy feels that he _sees_ him. This person’s touches never mean to cause Seto pain. He never touches the boy for his own pleasure or amusement

These are the first hands to show him any kindness. In the beginning the boy spoiled himself with the luxury of crying in those arms. Now that he cannot allow himself that luxury, the boy finds himself wondering about this man’s motivations. Why is he so kind? For that matter, _who is this man_? He watches the gentle hands work and thinks about their owner. Is there some way to learn more about him without asking him directly? The man seems to keep himself hidden away and has never introduced himself to the boy formally.

In fact, this man seems to be wholly without a name. The master only refers to him as Thief. Who is he? What does that name mean? There was no way that that could be his _real_ name. Right? If only he could know something about this man!

“You want to know my name?” Seto jumps and his eyes widen. The man continues softly, the lightness of a laugh beginning to creep in at the edge of his words. “Will knowing my name mean that much to you?”

Blue eyes fall to the floor and the boy’s cheeks grow pink as he scolds himself for showing an emotion so openly.

“Don’t fret. Your face was as stony as ever. You did not betray yourself.” He smiles, “More than a few creatures in this place can read minds. Be warned, though. All of them are wolves and you are one of the sheep.”

The boy tries to understand the man’s words. His brow furrows and he tries to look into the man’s eyes. The man is intent on his work and doesn’t look up. His fixes the end of the bandage but still doesn’t meet the boy’s gaze.

“But fear not, there is a wolf who will care for you little sheep.”

The curiosity gets the better of the boy and he begin to ask, “What does that-?”

“The Master will want to see you soon, Darkling.” The boy starts to open his mouth again but the man holds up his hand to silence him. “After his outburst, you know better than to keep him waiting.”

With the riddle rattling around in his head the boy makes his way to the chamber door. He wants to know what it all means, what do the wolves mean, what do the sheep mean, and who is his caretaker who speaks of wolves and sheep? Questions and ideas swirl in his mind. Curiosity and imagination begin to fight their leads.

His hands rests on the handle, more and more questions form. He pulls the door open and takes step. He passes through the portal, and his mind is instantly quiet. It focuses once more on darkness. 

+…+

Now the beast stood, towering over his former caregiver. He had accepted the hug he was offered but the smaller man seemed to be holding onto him with some unspoken desperation.

“When you figured it out, you wouldn’t let me near you for weeks. You were _so mad_. Even when you were hurt, you’d march in, grab the bandages, and fix yourself. It hurt me but I knew that you felt betrayed.”

Seto’s bittersweet memories made him force a chuckle. “That’s how children are, they say.” The embrace continued and it became a bit awkward for Seto. “Ah, let’s go to my study. We can catch up.”

 

 

Seated on a chair opposite Seto’s, the visitor looked around awkwardly. Seto tried to focus on his guest but his mind was drawn back to the visits from earlier in the evening. Yami had come to harass him but why had Max come? Why try to push him to visit his _sire_? Seto’s face twisted as he thought of that word. He felt ill as he thought of how, even after the cruelty that he had suffered at his own sire’s hands, Maximillion still wanted him to go to Yami. Just a cup of tea? Where would it end? Would be push for Seto to bring Mokuba?

“Oh, he’d never ask something like that of you!”

Pulled from his angry thoughts, Seto lashed out. “Get out of my head! You promised after _that day_ that you would never read my mind! Apparently, this is to be an evening full of vexation and betrayal!”

The guest was stunned but quietly said, “You know that I had to break that promise many times before.” Seto looked away, irritated. “It’s always been to take care of you, Darkling-”

“That’s no excuse, Bakura!” Seto spat. “And I’m much too old for that silly nickname!”

“Yes, forgive me…” Bakura’s voice wavered, “I suppose I shouldn’t have come…”

“Why _are_ you here?” Seto snorted. “There seems to be some sort of hellish holiday causing the ghosts of my past to visit me!” Seto looked at his guest, anger still pushed him to lash out even as he looked at the sad face.

Bakura averted his eyes, “I don’t really know why. I just knew that the master had paid you a visit and I thought that…” His voiced trailed off and he cleared his throat. “I see you moved since the last time I saw you. I think this place is even nicer than the last one.”

Seto acknowledged the lame attempt to change the topic of conversation with a grunt. “And yet you always seem to find me.”

A sad smile wavered on Bakura’s lips, “We always know how to find our _other_ family. The ones we have been Bound with will always echo in our hearts.”

The anger gripping Seto began to loosen its grip. Sitting a few inches away was another beast who was not a monster. He had cared for Seto when he was young, tending to his wounds, saving him from beatings, and even offering him comfort- even when Seto had thrown off his hands. Even after the boy had shunned him. Even now, in the face of unwarranted anger, he still had not simply walked away or lashed out. He sat quietly, his white hair still a bundle of unruly spikes. Now he looked so much smaller than he had in the boy’s eyes. This was the natural order of things, adults inevitably realized that their parents were not quite so big as they had thought they were. They realized that they were not as powerful as they had thought.

Slowly, Bakura stood up and Seto started to reach out to him, to keep him from going. It was his fault that Bakura would feel that he shouldn’t have come. He had to apologize. He had to explain but his hand froze as he looked at Bakura’s face. He wasn’t preparing to leave, he was looking at Seto’s face and something was different. His eyes were wide and full of a strange light. Seto had seen this face of Bakura’s before but it had been a very long time since he had seen it last. He braced himself.

“You’ve grown so much!” Arms were thrown around Seto’s neck and his face was immersed in a wild forest of white hair. “Oh! The little boy who used to cry in my lap! My little baby who even drew me pictures! The little Darkling who gave me hugs! All gone!” Pale hands flew to Seto’s cheeks and Bakura pulled away so that he could look into his eyes. He seemed to be searching for something. Possibly searching for some clue of where that boy, he seemed to have just realized was missing, had gone. His bottom lip quivered but he took a deep breath and hugged Seto’s head to his chest. “Why did I let this happen to you. My sweet little boy. You became the Darkling. Now you’re just… just…” Remorse filled his words. As if he there had been anything that he could have done.

While he was Bound to Yami there was nothing that Bakura could have done. Even those little acts of defiance to save Seto from punishment, had called for a monumental exertion of his will. What could he have _really_ done to save Seto?

Straightening, Bakura tilted his ‘son’s’ face up towards his. His fingers, which had cared for so many cuts, scrapes, and so much worse, began to play over the lines and features of this face. So different from all those years ago but still, there in corners and folds of skin, in a cut that never healed properly before the transformation, in those cold eyes, there were still remnants of that boy. “What things these eyes have seen.” Tears rose again as he looked down into those cold eyes, “I remember once you wanted to rip them out.” A finger followed the line of an eyebrow down to cradle a cheek again. “You were so shaken and scarred and I just… I let them do that to you.”

A tear fell onto the ‘son’s’ cheek and he winced as if it was a blow. Sniffling quickly, Bakura wiped away the bloody tear and traced the furrowed brow with his other hand. “Oh no! Don’t frown! Please smile!” Terror and agony made his voice taut.

Seto forced a smile and watched as his former guardian’s shoulders relaxed. He felt the fingers on his face tracing his smiling lips. “That’s much better!” But tears welled up again and Bakura’s arms were thrown around his neck again. He buried his face into Seto’s shoulder and sobbed.

His little boy was all grown up. Jaded and struggling to learn what love was. Always caught in a fight with himself, the world, and his sire. The sobs shook Bakura and a scream exploded from him. He felt as though something was clawing at him from within. Emotions, too raw and powerful to be contained in words, poured out of him. His strength poured out of his body as the scream tore through him. He slipped down against Seto. He cried into his ‘son’s’ chest as he sank to his knees. Emotions poured from him but as the silence fell back over him, Bakura knew that his constant companion had not left him. The daemon of guilt still stalked his mind. “I should have saved you…”

Shocked and shaken by the emotional display, Seto did the only thing he could think to do. He wrapped an arm around his former caretaker and ran a hand over his head. “Ssh now. Just let it all go.”

The red stained face lifted from his chest and the big wet eyes looked at him. “How? How can I let go of this? I failed you. You hate me- and I deserve every last bit of it. I loved you- I still do- and I let them do _that_ to you! I just let them- I let them-” A fresh wave of tears overtook him. “ _I let them destroy you!”_

His words beat upon the walls in Seto’s mind. This deluge of emotion crashed into him and he felt himself dragged away on the resulting flood. It pulled him towards the whirlpool of memories that were too painful to be allowed to roam free in his mind. Down into that lowest point of his mind where the worst of his remembrances were chained. The memories, like hungry beasts, gnashed their teeth and howled in ecstasy.

 

Pupils in crystal blue eyes constricted but they saw nothing of what was before them, unwillingly transfixed, they watch the parade of awful horrors from memories long ago suppressed.


	6. Memories Most Foul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …+…+…  
> Author’s Note:  
> CONTENT WARNING!The following may contain triggers or may be unpalatable to some readers. If you would rather, you can skip this chapter and resume reading in chapter 7. You’ll lose some of the story but it shouldn’t impact, too negatively, your ability to understand the plot overall.
> 
> Thank you for reading- or not reading.  
> …+…+…

Darkness clings to everything, only driven back in patches and wavering spheres by sporadically placed candles. A boy is laid out on a platform. A little body bathed in the yellowed light. He tries not to shiver. Unbound by tethers but kept in place by powers stronger than any leather thong or iron chain. He stares into the darkness. He focuses his attention away from his utter exposure. He will not regard the faces around him. He will not engage the hungry gazes which rove over him. He will not look at the lascivious grins which glow even in the scant light. He focuses on the nothingness of the black shadows.

A cold claw strokes his hair, long and unbound, too thin for his master’s designs for a matching hairstyle. Another talon traces his collarbone. Fingertips lightly brush his ribcage. A delicate digit caresses a thigh. Mischievous fingers play over his feet.

Each cold touch threatens to pull a gasp from the boy. Each one threatens to cause a flinch. The boy stays firm. He stays disconnected. That is not his body. That is someone else’s body. In these moments, these minutes, possibly these _hours_ , he is nothing but a mind floating in an ocean of nothing.

Though the boy has been disconnected from his body he still feels the haunting touches like ripples, far away. This night the cold caresses are not new but this night they are seemingly never-ending. He allows himself a thought in the nothingness, ‘Please let this be over quickly.’

“Oh?” A crown of hair obscures the boy’s view of the darkness and a whisper in his ear threatens to pull his mind back to his body. The back of a freezing porcelain talon slides down his cheek as a soft laugh falls from perfect lips onto his small ear, and what they seem to promise the boy makes him shiver.

‘I _will_ not cry! I _will_ stay strong!’ The boy screws up his eyes. Too many faces press in over him to allow him to find the darkness around him. All of the darkness is squeezed out by the monsters crowding around him. Their delicate features are twisted. Their alabaster limbs are all reaching. Their countless questing hands are readying.

“Sorry to disappoint, boy, but this will not be over quickly…”

The boy focuses on the darkness behind his eyelids. He tries to separate himself from the body which is covered in sweat. The body which is shaking. The body which is bleeding. ‘ _I will not let him win!_ ’

But he is not far enough away from that body. Pain rips through his lower body. He hears the scream. His mind is not far enough away. He knows that it is his mouth which birthed the betrayal. Again and again the pain tears through him and the screams are ripped from a body which will not obey his mind. It will not obey his mind. Just as the boy fears that his body will not allow him to separate from it, suddenly a more full darkness overtakes him.

The screams form words, “PLEASE! SAVE ME!” Anguish and terror. Agony and desperation. His mind grabs hold of some tiny ghost of hope. A last tiny thread which may call down his salvation.

“Oh..” The grunt disgusting to his face slams into him as something burns its way further up his lower body. “He’s not invited to this,” the pain recedes and then tears into him afresh, “The Thief can _never_ save you.”

Another scream wells up as the horror plunges into him again. His breath catches. His lung can’t fully expand.

His consciousness is swallowed up by an impenetrable void.

This is not the comforting ocean of darkness that he had been trying to reach. This is a truer nothing. This is a darkness from which there may be no return for him.

 

Suddenly he is cast from the void by the crashing of his body on cold stones. The unfeeling stone offers only a biting cold to the boy as he is dispassionately dropped. His body once more rebels. Uncontrollable shivering makes his teeth chatter and make his body bounce on the stones. The pain buzzes and stings throughout his body, like a swarm of enraged hornets. Each pain screaming out to be attended to first- or better yet, to never to be touched ever again.

“Get yourself patched up.” A sleepy sounding servant says in parting.

The boy lays on the stone, listening to the footsteps as they recede. He listens to them as they ascend the stairs from the cellar. His lays on the ground because he isn’t sure what parts of his body will obey him. He listens to the footsteps as they disappear behind a closed door because he does not want their owner to see him struggle.

He tries to get his body up. If he can stand he will have won something. If he can walk himself to the door and walk inside he will have proven his strength. If he can _just_ become master of his own body. Unfortunately, he quickly begins to pray that he could just _crawl_ to the door. Just some mode of movement that was not so pitiful as the only option his mutinous body seems to be leaving him with. He tries to pull himself up several times but quickly finds only defeat in his quest.

The door looms ahead, a safe haven. If he can only muster the strength to get through it…

Cursing himself, the boy begins to pull himself towards the door. Only a few inches away from his outstretched hand but, dragging himself on his belly, it seems to be miles away. An eternity passes and the boy finally feels the wood with his fingertips. He pulls himself farther and can rest his palm against its surface. But all is for naught. He struggles to lift his head and accepts the grim fact that he cannot raise himself to open the latch. Nor can he raise his hand to strike the door with enough force to rouse the sleeper beyond it.

Gasping from his efforts and fighting against the fatigue which is threatening to drag him back to that pure void, he submits to his only option.

 

A dying animal moans. It gasps and coughs. It sputters and wheezes. From underneath the door, Bakura has heard it struggling for the past several agonizing minutes. He has sat on his bed, holding his head and praying that it would simply expire. Another one of his master’s cruel taunts, some joke designed to remind him of his own wounded and desperate existence. He can smell the blood through the door but something about it repulses him. He sits on his bed praying for death to do the poor creature a final mercy.

Through the choking sounds, as the animal no doubt inhales the dirt from between the stones, the moans begin to sound like words. Something makes Bakura listen. A familiar note in the moan catches his ear.

“Please… help… me…”

Gasping, the man jumps up from his bed and runs to the door. Wrenching it open he finds a ghastly present at the threshold.

He drops to his knees and his shaking hands reach for the boy. His eyes dart around the battered body. He tries to find some place to touch which will not bring about agony. The boy cries out at the slightest touch. The boy mumbles and sobs over and over again. “Please. Help me.” Each repetition tears into the man’s heart afresh. A new reminder of his inability to save the boy.

“Oh… Darkling… Please… Darkling… Please…” At the sound of his voice, the boy’s crying begins to subside. 

Bakura has come. The boy knows that he is safe. Finally he allows the void to swallow him up.

 

The boy falls unconscious, a temporary relief from his agony. With trembling hands, Bakura gathers up the broken body and carries him inside. Tears roll down his cheeks unabated.


	7. Passionate Plea

A cool hand on his cheek pulls Seto back from his remembrance. Wet eyes look up at him.

“That was the beginning. That was when your innocence was truly stripped from you. The horrors of that night are why I am here.” No longer was it the emotional hysteric looking at him. This was the Bakura that Seto remembered. “Tonight, another will share your fate. He is not like you.” His eyes widened and his bottom lip began to quiver as the caretaker was replaced, “He is not strong like you! He cries! He laughs! _He still has some chance for hope!_ ”

Suddenly, desperate hands grabbed at Seto’s shirt and the hysteric cried, “He’ll never survive! He will die! I cannot fail him! Please! Please, I can’t, not him too!”

Still frozen. Still numb from the cold grasp of his darkest memories. Seto looked into the teary eyes and he heard himself say, “Do you love him more than me…” He heard the words and knew that they came from a heart that he had thought he had long since lost. Why should he care about this? Where had this emotion come from? What _was_ this emotion?

Tear filled eyes blinked and the caretaker returned. “Oh, no. I love you both just the same but I _know_ that he will not survive. There was some chance that you could survive, but he is too tender. He has still managed to be fragile and pure in Yami’s clutches.”

Seto’s hand grabbed the hand at his cheek. His fingers squeezed the thin wrist and an anger rose in him that he had not felt for a long time. An anger born of pain and betrayal.

“So what of me? Was it permissible for _me_ to go through that torture because I was strong? Was I scarred and beaten just because I could survive!? Was I allowed to be twisted and fouled because I was not fragile or _pure?!_ ” Pain fueled anger and anger became rage. He looked at the beast caught in his grasp with open disgust.

He threw the other man to the ground. Disgusted with the beast, his former caretaker, and with himself for his violence. “Get out-”

“No, Darkling! It was not that! It was never that way! I would have never put you through that if I could have stopped it! I failed to-”

“Then why is it that I’m still hurt! Why are you here begging for a hero! Why for _him?_ Why must I go to help some little bastard I’ve never met- because _he’s weak!?_ He doesn’t have a strong enough will to live and so that means that _I_ must save him!” Seto shook with rage, rekindled and intensified. “GET OUT!”

“Seto! No, please!” Desperation had flooded Bakura’s expression as he stood up. This was not the face of the hysteric, this was the resolute features of one who Seto had once loved.

“No! I am _not_ going to go rushing to my doom for some little pitiful-”

“He’s like you brother!” Bakura yelled, still desperate to fulfill his duty. Still desperate to make Seto understand. “He is small! He has known love and affection! He is just as sweet as your little one and I have never had the power to do anything for those I have seen tortured.” Bakura reached for Seto, trying to keep him from walking away. Seto pulled away from him and Bakura pulled his hands back. He clasped his hands at his chest, his knuckles strained with the effort of keeping them from shaking. “I have hated myself for decades. Knowing what they were eventually going to do to you and knowing that I could do nothing. Now I have a chance to save another child from your fate. All I ask of you is to borrow your strength. You were a boy when they took away that last shred of your innocence but this one is not much more than a babe!” His words were pouring out of him and as his brow furrowed deeper his eyes grew wider again. Tears poured out of his eyes. His hands reached out towards Seto as the hysteric wept, his hands grasped at air as he struggled not to grab a hold of his ‘son,’ “I cannot watch another of my children be taken to the slaughter! Please, this last thing I beg of you! Anything you ask for in return is yours!”

Bakura clutched at his chest with one hand, taking a step forward, he grabbed Seto’s sleeve. “Even if it is my life that you ask for in return, I will give it. I can understand your hate and I will bear it- but please do not let this child suffer for my frailty.” The hysteric became the former caretaker and he held onto Seto’s sleeve firmly. His eyes were resolute as he looked up at Seto.

 

Rooted to the spot, Seto watched the passion and fire burning in Bakura’s eyes. He looked at his red streaked cheeks. He watched the bloody tears continue to well up and fall. His chest ached again. His heart hurt. This passionate plea for another child. Bakura had been his. He had been the one good thing in Seto’s life for many many years and he had been his alone. Or so he had thought. Now, to hear him speak with so much ferocity and love for this other child. To hear him offer up his life in exchange for this new boy’s rescue.

Seto felt a sharp pain, driving into his heart, past the ache. He felt an acute agony that he had never known. Could it be that this was not the first time that Bakura had made such a deal? He offered his life so easily as though it was a bargaining chip he was accustomed to wagering. Had he tried to make the same deal when it was Seto who was going to be taken? Had he cried like this to someone else? Had he pleaded in vain to try to convince a champion to rescue the blue eyed boy from his fate? A sickness rose in Seto. His mind reeled.

Had there been some deal which had brought about his eventual freedom? What was it that Bakura had given up to convince Yami to Unbind him all those years ago? How much of the current life he enjoyed was thanks to some great, unspoken, sacrifice that Bakura had made? Where would Mokuba have been if he had not been free to take him from his miserable life?

This last question shook Seto. The memory of Mokuba’s dirty sallow face peaking out from underneath a patched rag of a blanket from a corner. Was this boy, that Bakura was intercedingon the behalf of, like that? Was he another forgotten orphan who had been happy to be taken from his own filth and misery? Was he an orphan who thought that Fate was taking him to a life like Mokuba’s, only to find himself in the Hell that Seto had known?

 

Fate could be a cruel mistress.

 

This night was not fresh, nor was it near ending. However, there was much to do.

Bakura was sent home with the order to build his mental defenses. Employees of the Kaiba household who had be roused from their slumber by the noises found themselves put to work cleaning up glass in the kitchen, a coffee table in the living room, and blood in the study.

+…+

An annoyed man answered his telephone and found a friend from his past on the other end. “Max, you were right. I’ve been spoiled and blind all these years. I need to take care of some business.” He heard the caller take a steadying breath. “If I don’t return, I’m going to need you to take care of Mokuba.”

“Wait! What’s going on?” Maximillion sat up straighter and gripped the receiver tighter.

There was a pause before Seto continued, “I have a promise to keep and another to atone for breaking.”

“What does that-”

“ _When we are free we will go anywhere. We will do anything. Best of all, we won’t have to ask for permission..._ If I’m not back in a day, take Mokuba and disappear.”

Maximillion jumped up, “Seto-!” A click cut off the rest of the exclamation.

 

Seto hung up the phone. He could not listen to his friend. He could not leave himself room for doubt. He no longer had the luxury to indulge a wavering mind. He had failed those he had loved and lived a selfish life. He had sought to absolve these sins with the easy salvation of one boy. Now he would truly atone for his life as a beast.


	8. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …+…+…  
> Author’s Note  
> Content Warning: The following chapter contains graphic violence.  
> …+…+…

A doorbell rang in the dead of night as the the witching hour struck. A maid answered the door and an unannounced guest strode past her. He walked with purpose, as if he knew this home. He breezed in as if he lived in the mansion. She watched him pass and started to call out to him but another servant took hold of her shoulder and wordlessly shook his head. The master was prepared for this guest.

Seto walked the main hall of the mansion and kept his eyes focused on the path ahead of him. He did not allow his eyes to wander and risk their falling upon some thing that reminded him of his time in that house. Of course it was not the same building that he had lived and died in more than a century ago, but Yami had rebuilt his home over and over again with the same exact specifications. There was something about the period in time that the original mansion had be constructed and furnished in that appealed to him. It was the period in time when Seto had been born and he had been trapped in it from then until he was given his freedom.

The mansion may have been from the Victorian era but there was one room, the room which Seto strode to with so much purpose, which was not altogether fitting.

 

The room was hung with crimson velvet, lit by floor candelabras, and each side of the room was flanked by engraved pillars. Hung upon the pillars were large oil paintings in gaudy gilded frames. Each painting was a portrait of the owner from a different era. Seto could never be sure which were real and which were imagined but if they were all to be believed it meant that his master had been alive in the time of the ancient pharaohs in Egypt.

Naturally, Yami lounged in a golden throne atop a stepped dais in the middle of the room. He played with the engraved and gilded miniature shepherd’s crook. Like a lion, he watched as Seto entered the room. On either side of him, sitting on steps, was a small children. A girl which Seto had not been expecting, sat in a thin pink shift with a fresh black eye. The boy Seto had been expecting but he still found himself shocked for a moment. A long slice down the side of his face, with the blood beginning to dry, was not as jarring as the disturbing resemblance the boy had to the monster, at whose feet he sat. Even down to the wide purple eyes, the boy was the spitting image of his master. To complete the sickening tribute to himself, Yami had apparently had the boy’s hair styled in the manner of his own.

Seto looked away from the children. He ignored them as he focused his mind.

“What finally brings you here?” Yami purred. He twirled the crook in his delicate fingers absently.

Seto glanced at him.

“Well?” Yami peered at his guest and he sat up a bit straighter.

No answer came from Seto but his eyes settled on one of the paintings. He took a step towards it.

“Oh, the paintings? You came to see the paintings?” A twinge of stress bled into Yami’s words. His curiosity was piqued as he had the feeling that his guess was correct.

The guest began to walk down the row of pillars towards the throne. His head was turned upward, his eyes were seemingly glued to the paintings, and his mouth wasn’t moving. He wasn’t answering and he wasn’t giving any indication that he was even going to _acknowledge_ that questions had been posed. A tiny claw scratched at Yami’s patience. His eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out if it was an infuriating coincidence that Seto was not looking at him or if it was on purpose. He tried to reach out to his child’s mind but all that met his probing was a recitation of some poem. Seto repeated the lines over and over again. It seemed to be about a journey at night in the wilderness and promises. Yami quickly grew tired of it. Those were not the thoughts he was looking to examine. 

An itching frustration continued to grow as he watched his guest meander about, without so much as a proper greeting!

 

As his guest came closer, Yami shifted in his seat. “Did you want something? Did you want to talk!? Why are you here!?” frenzied suspicion colored his words and the handle of the crook in began to be compressed in his trembling grasp.

Seto continued his quiet tour, unperturbed. He walked past the throne to look at the other row of paintings, pursing his lips and whistling.

Yami sat bolt upright as he walked past, like a dog straining against its lead. “LOOK AT ME!”

One of the children giggled, Seto couldn’t tell which. The sound was cut short by a sharp smack and a yelp. Seto made an effort not to wince as he heard the child land heavily on the ground.

“DON’T YOU DARE LAUGH! I TELL YOU WHEN YOU WILL LAUGH!”

Seto turned his head a few degrees and caught a glimpse of the girl. She had been thrown nearly a foot from where she had been seated. The girl gulped and sobbed, “Yes, Master.”

Seto focused again on the poem ‘…and miles to go before I sleep…’ It still wasn’t time to act.

“Now! You! What business do you have in my home! _Ignore me at you own peril, boy! I will snap you like a twig if you don’t open your damn mouth and ANSWER ME!_ ”

Casually, Seto turned his head to look in Yami’s direction, as if this was the time he was being addressed. “Excuse me? Did you say something?”

Yami’s right eye twitched and one of his alabaster talons wrapped around an arm of his throne as his other threw aside the fitfully broken pieces of the crook. “Yes,” he spoke through clenched teeth. “ _What do you want here?_ ”

Smiling, the guest replied, “Oh just…” his sentence drifted away into nothing.

Yami leaned forward over the edge of the throne. “JUST!? _JUST WHAT!? TELL ME!?_ ” The armrest came free in his hand. With a howl of rage, Yami raised it like a club and whirled on the little boy.

Now was the moment.

Suddenly Seto’s hand was around the monster’s wrist. “Don’t touch either of them.”

Yami grinned manically and looked up at Seto, “Is this what you’re here for!?”

“No.” Yami’s grin faltered. Seto’s fangs caught the light from the candles and they glittered in Yami’s confused eyes. “Children, please leave, we have things to discuss.”

The children’s eyes widened but they didn’t dare to move without their master’s permission. Yami’s little lips began to curl up into a smile. He had what he wanted. He knew why Seto was here! His child had come for a private visit! He didn’t want to say so earlier because he has always been so shy! Yami marveled at the fire and passion in his eyes. Now he was sending the children away to spare them from the passionate encounter he was so desirous of, “Oh, there’s no need-”

Seto threw his head back with lightening speed and brought it down on Yami’s neck with naked ferocity. He ripped a chunk of flesh free and spat it over his shoulder

The children stared at the bloody show, frozen in terror. Yami’s screech of surprise and pain snapped them out of their shock and they ran screaming out of the room.

Seto reared his head back to deliver another attack but Yami broke free. He pried his wrist free but Seto hooked his razor sharp nails and changed his grip. In Yami’s struggle his wrist was torn open. Seto’s claws ripped through tendons and veins.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Yami shrieked as he jumped backwards off of the dais.

Seto only smiled and rushed him. Claws and fangs extended he was a sight to behold. This was most certainly not the little boy that he had had under his thumb. This was not the cowed creature he had taunted and trained. What was this beast in his home? Yami frantically tried to think as he dodged swipes and grabs. He was dodging but he wasn’t fast enough. The neck wound was taking it’s toll. With each movement, more of his precious blood was pouring out. He would need massive amounts of blood and rest to heal but first…

First he needed to put down this foolish rebellion. And he also _needed_ to find out WHY!

“I WILL CRUSH YOU!” Yami launched an attack, determined not to be pressed into a retreat by this insolent whelp. Fingers hooked, he struck for Seto’s face. Seto caught his hand but the other, not quite disabled, flashed across his face.

Pulling back, Seto still felt the piercing pain of the nails raking across his cheek. He pulled his arm back and threw Yami into a nearby pillar. Yami hit the pillar and was stunned for a moment but Seto’s body had quickly followed him. The blow of the large body slamming him into the pillar was followed by a large cracking sound. The pillar cracked under the blow and the sound of concrete breaking masked the sound of ribs cracking in Yami’s perfect little body.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?” Spluttering blood but still driven, Yami screamed.

“Why don’t I cry?” Seto whispered. Yami’s eyes widened. “Why don’t I like your touches?”

Yami’s body shook and his eyes flickered rapidly between the icy eye staring at him and the closed, bloody, eyelid of its partner. “YES!! YES!! WHY!? WHY ALL OF IT!?”

Seto smiled, the monster was beginning to become unglued. Unfortunately, he was not as distracted as Seto had hoped. A searing against his belly made Seto jump back.

Yami hefted the fireball and threw it at Seto. He would maim the rebel further and, then just before the dog expired, he would claim the answers he was owed! Prized pearls from that filthy infuriating mouth!

Surprised by the magical attack Seto ignored the pain and recovered his wits. He dodged the fireballs which followed it, and continued his taunts, “Why did I never kiss you? Why didn’t I sleep in your bed? Why don’t I come back?”

A primal scream ripped its way out of the blood splattered porcelain throat and filled the chamber. “YES!! YES!! JUST TELL ME!!”

The small monster began throwing the fireballs blindly. Seto dodged fluidly and appeared before his former master. In a flash he was gone again. Pain exploded from Yami’s face as he grabbed at his face. Seto’s swift hand had torn across his face.

Yami’s mind registered his pain. His hand flew up to protect his face. A fresh agony exploded across the back of his protective hand. He shrieked, pain and frustration overwhelming him.

Seto grabbed the newly injured arm, and threw Yami into the throne. Preparing to unleash a barrage of blows, Seto pulled back his fist. Unfortunately, he underestimated the power of rage and quickly found their roles reversed. Yami grabbed Seto’s shoulder and turned. Seto was thrown into the seat and bloodied hands were around his throat. One hand, it’s tendons torn, tried in vain to exert pressure but the freshly injured hand still clamped over his throat.

Murderous, bloodied, tired, but driven by his unbridled fury and curiosity, Yami endeavored to squeeze his answers out of the beast. “ANSWER ME! TELL ME EVERYTHING!”

“Why don’t I scream for mercy? Why don’t I cry? Who am I on the inside?” Seto made grabs for Yami’s hand but kept his eye calm and locked on his attacker’s. Yami’s singlehanded grip wasn’t as strong but it could still do grave damage if he didn’t get free.

Determined to stay in the position of power, Yami formed a fireball in his weak hand and tried to burn the fighting hands. He snarled and bared his teeth. He would have his answers!

 

Around them the room was coming undone. Flames raced up the gaudy hangings and gobbled up the paintings. The broken pillar was close to giving way. Flaming portraits were beginning to fall one by one, spreading the fire further. The flames greedily jumped and licked at everything they could reach.

Just as the flames consumed, so did the insanity consume Yami. But it wasn’t enough to loosen Yami’s grip.

Seto gulped a smoky breath and played his last card.

“Why did I never love you?”

His words left him and the room seemed to freeze. Icy eyes looked deep into a wide purple eye. The pupil was swallowed up and the crazed purple iris floated in a wide ocean of white. The monster clenched his jaw. The loud crackling of flames drowned out the cracking of teeth as they gave way in Yami’s mouth. The one question he _needed_ to hear answered!

“WHY!? YES! WHY!? _WHY DON’T YOU LOVE_ _ME!?_ ” Yami’s grip faltered. Even while his voice roared, some little part of him remembered that he must release the beast’s throat if he wanted to hear his answer. Instead he balled up his fist to punch the young beast. A bloody mouth could still answer! He _had_ to have that _answer!_

Now was the moment he had worked for. The balance had shifted. Curiosity had won out. 

Seto pulled Yami forward. He wrapped his arms around the monster and pulled him into a crushing bear hug. He opened his jaws and tore into the other side of the ivory throat.

Another blood curdling scream was torn from Yami and his functioning hand ripped savagely at Seto’s face. Even with his right eye torn out by the savage talons Seto still held fast.

Fighting for survival now, Yami summoned fireballs and scorched every inch of the disobedient beast that he could reach. He bucked. He cursed. He ripped. He tore. But all was for naught. As Yami brought his head back to deliver a lethal bite to the treacherous beast, Seto summoned the last of his strength. His jaw still around his opponent’s throat, he pulled away the flesh. He spit it out into the encroaching flames and bit once more into what was once a perfect, slender, neck.

The death blow was mute in the fiery uproar around the combatants but both felt its delivery. Both felt the monster’s spine break in the beast’s jaws.

Yami’s struggles abruptly ceased. A twitch moved the lifeless head.

Seto opened his mouth. He gagged and spit out the blood and fluids which tasted bitter on his tongue. The monster didn’t move but he did not dare to loosen his grip prematurely, “Look, Yami. It’s everything you wanted. I’m hugging you… Does this finally mean that I love you?”

Yami did not fight. He did not ask anymore questions. Seto still held fast.

This was the end of the beast and the monster. This was how he would make sure that the monster did not rise of the ashes. He would hold onto that corpse. The flames would do away with them both. The fire would cleanse them from the world. The world would be free of the filthy creatures.

Blood and gore clinging to his lips, Seto smiled. This was a good end for him. Even if it was in the last minutes of his life, he had given his life meaning. This was a good death.

 

His bitter, sweet, and horrific memories already played for him this evening, Seto was greeted with visions of a different sort when it was time for his life to flash before his eyes. In the end, Fate, or Destiny, or maybe it was Love, gave Seto something sweet to send him off.

 

“He is dead. Please, Seto, let’s go.” Seto turned his head sleepily to see the vision of Bakura.

He smiled at the sweet face wavering before him. He didn’t care that this was a hallucination. “I love you. I always have. You have always been my father.” A red tear rose in his functioning eye and he sighed. “I just wish I could have saved everyone.”

Turning his head back, he rested it on the shoulder of the corpse. The weight of his life, the years, the sins, the regrets, and all that still plagued him seemed to be lifted up on the boiling air around him. He settled into the throne and looked up at the ceiling. “Dear Love, please protect my brother, Mokuba. Please watch over Bakura and Max. Please care for those two children. Please do all that I could not.”

In the bright blaze of the room, the darkness came for Seto once more. The true void came for Seto, one final time.


	9. The Weight of Regret Carried Away

An excited boy sits in his temporary refuge with his companion. “One day I’ll be your champion! I’ll save you! I’ll protect you! I’ll free us both!” The boy and his friend shake with excitement as they celebrate in whispers. “You and me. Just you and me.”

“What about-?” The younger boy asked.

“Oh yes, of course, him too! The three of us! I’ll be a real good hero and we’ll all go free!”

“And then what?” The silver haired boy giggles and claps his hands over his mouth to muffle the sounds of joy.

“When we are free we will go anywhere! We will do anything! Best of all, we won’t have to ask for permission!

 

+…+

 

A blue eyed boy sits on the edge of a bed, his legs still not long enough to touch the floor. “Why are you so nice? Why aren’t you like them?”

“Because I love you too much!” The caretaker continues to brush the boy’s hair, smiling.

The boy laughs, “But you are always nice!”

The man thinks for a moment, “I have not _always_ been nice. Though, I think I have been nice forlonger than I was bad.”

The boy smiles and sits up straighter, “I’m going to free us! I’m going to get stronger and then we are all going to go free! Me, you, and Max!”

 

+…+

 

A blue eyed youth lays beaten, bruised, and bleeding in a small bed. “Please… kill… me…” His hoarse voice pleads.

Tears fill the guardian’s eyes, red tracks streak his face, “I’m sorry my little Darkling.”

The boy turns his head slowly to look at his guardian who is still holding his hand. “You didn’t come… I called… and called…”

“I’m sorry, my Darkling! I couldn’t come to help you. I-”

“Did… you know…?” The guardian’s silence weighs heavily on the boy. With all of the strength he can muster, he pulls his hand free. “I hate you.”

The words pierce the man’s heart.

 

+…+

 

“You are free! You are no longer Bound! Yami has freed you!” A white haired man says happily to his former charge.

The younger does not look at him. He continues to pack his things. There is no sign that he has even heard.

“Aren’t you happy?”

Blue eyes turn to regard the former guardian with disgust. “Get out. I’m busy.”

Hurt the former caretaker, retreats a few steps, “Oh… I just wanted to say… goodbye and maybe see you off.”

“Get out of my sight.”

 

+…+

 

“You lied!”

A blue eyed man stands, stunned.

“ _You never came back for me! You never saved me! You never protected me! You broke EVERY ONE of your promises!_ ” The young man with silver hair stares at the great Seto Kaiba who was once his friend. “You got _your_ freedom, packed your bags and LEFT!”

A promise from the beast’s youth bubbles to the surface. Oft repeated words play in his mind ‘ _When we are free we will go anywhere. We will do anything. Best of all, we won’t have to ask for permission.’_ “I’m sorry, Max, I-”

“ _You left me to suffer and rot with Malik! You didn’t even TRY! You walked away and never looked back!”_ A young man, pain and anger filling his right eye, hisses, “ _I had to finally KILL HIM! I had to do it because I finally woke up and realized that you were NEVER COMING BACK!”_

 

+…+

 

The end was somehow much more peaceful than Seto had imagined.

‘I’m sorry. I said those things. I made all of those promises. For all of the wrongs I have done. I am so sorry. I wish I could fix it all. I wish I had done the right thing. I never wanted to hurt either of you.’

“Hush now, you have fulfilled more promises than you have broken.”

Seto smiled bitterly. Even if these ghosts gave him gentle words, he knew very well that he had ruined lives and broken oaths.

‘I should have been the one to kill Malik. I should have freed us all. I was going to lead us all into the real world. We were going to be happy. Instead, I was so blinded by my own selfish concerns. I fled my own problems and forgot other’s. I was a bad friend- no! Max was a brother to me! I was an awful brother and an even worse son. I’m sorry for all of deeds and now… I’m sorry for never saying these words when they might have made a difference.’

“We love you. We understand. You didn’t let us down. You were little more than a child when you made those promises. How could you have known what would be required of you to fulfill them? When Max found you, you were there for him. When you were asked to rescue two children you didn’t even know, you fought a monster and saved them. You have not let anyone down.”

The weight on Seto’s spirit eased a measure more. ‘I just wish I could have told them…’

“We’re listening. We hear you. You have not yet reached the end of your road, Seto.”

“Yes, my Darkling, you have not yet joined the end.”

 

Seto’s brow wrinkled. Slowly he tried to open his eyes. Light leaked in through one but the other stayed firmly shut. He tried to look around. He found two shadows beside him. He squinted, trying to make sense of the blurry shapes he saw. “Ba…kura? Max?” his hoarse voice whispered.

“Yes.”

“We’re here, Seto.”

 

A wave of relief washed over the battered champion. “I love you both.”


	10. Epilogue

A week after The End…

Bakura smiled as he watched the children playing. Seto relaxed on the couch, still nursing his wounds. Pegasus sat on a chair and made sure the children didn’t climb on Seto. The children now had each other. They were all happy to have new siblings and Seto was set to adopt the two children. Mokuba would soon have a brother and sister, Yuugi and Anzu.

It was difficult to watch Seto’s slow recovery but with rest, blood, and Bakura’s ministrations he was sure to make a full recovery, even regrow the eye he had lost. Rehabilitation would be slow but everyone was learning to accept it.

A sigh of contentment left Bakura’s lips but he heard a little snicker in his head and he slipped out of the living room.

‘I told you right from the _start,_ he’d be a great champion!’ A voice boasted. ‘I told you if he loved you enough he’d save you! _I told you_ he’d be _more_ than willing to do all the dirty work, so long as you gave him a good reason!’

Looking around to make sure that no one was around, Bakura slipped into the blessedly empty kitchen. “You played him for a fool.” He hissed under his breath.

‘At times, but you have to admit that it all worked out! _We made it out!_ We finally escaped that hellhole alive! _That’s_ what matters! Never forget that.’

“What you did was still wrong! We should have helped him escape when we had the chance!” The man spoke under his breath as much as he could, hissing behind his hand, hoping that it muffled his exclamations.

‘If he had escaped all on his own, he’d _never_ have come back for us! That should be clear enough from his actions once he was no longer Bound!’

“Yes, but-” Bakura started to answer but the excited children had come running in and they were dragging him back into the other room.

“Come play, Uncle Bakura!” They chorused as they pushed and pulled him out of the kitchen.

Bakura smiled, unable to resist.

‘Just remember. You owe me.’

The words echoed in his mind and Bakura’s features became slack.

“Is something the matter?” Seto had pulled himself up to a seated position and concern played over the portions of his face not hidden by bandages.

The thief, caretaker, guardian, father, and uncle, simply smiled and laughed. “Everything’s just fine.” He tapped little Yuugi on the head and jogged away, saying “Tag, you’re it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, WHOA! The original version of Champion was 7,523 words. The Director’s Cut? NEARLY 20,000 WORDS! WHOA! And that’s taking out the the Author’s Notes! I hope that you find that the new words were well spent. I am definitely more than a little worried that the readers may find this version wordy and pretentious. (I used a thesaurus several times to try and find different ways to express the same ideas, for instance describing Yami’s paleness lol)
> 
> I originally wrote Champion over a decade ago. I fell in love with the story that I saw in my mind. Unfortunately, what I cobbled together and published was not quite as stunning as what I had pictured. So I found myself, many years down the road and going over my old work to finish old stories, fix up some stories, and maybe relive some memories. I found “Champion” and cringed as I read it. It was not the amazing story that I remembered it being.
> 
> HOWEVER, it had so much potential and so many good memories that I couldn’t see my way to throwing it out or abandoning it. I thought about the possibility of re-writing it. However, I didn’t want to strip much from the original story, I wanted to ADD to it. Which is how I found myself writing a ‘Director’s Cut’ of the story.
> 
> I really hope that fans of the original story will enjoy it and new readers will stumble across it and enjoy it as well.
> 
> Because I still respect the earnest effort that I put into the first version of this story, it will stay up on the site [fanfiction.net]- unless there is a situation where I am told that I can only have one version published. If that happens, I’ll take the original version down.
> 
> If you enjoyed this story and any of my other stories and want a Director’s Cut for one of my old works, feel free to send me a message!

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note
> 
> I don’t usually have more than a single note, at the end of a story or chapter, but I thought it would be funny to point out something which struck me.
> 
> In the original “Champion” what was the essential content of the above was expressed with only 204 words. Here, the word count ballooned to 2,953 words. In case I needed any more reason to break the story up into chapters.
> 
> Ok, I’m done. Thank you for reading!


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